"All my bags are packed

I'm ready to go

I'm standin' here outside your door

I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin'

It's early morn

The taxi's waitin'

He's blowin' his horn

Already I'm so lonesome

I could die"

The music filtered through my subconscious, not fully absorbing the noises in the early morning flight. Nothing quite said "going home" like John Denver.

One time I wrote a song about a girl whose entire life was put together like a patchwork quilt, all made from john denver songs and james taylor's chords.

' "So kiss me and smile for me

Tell me that you'll wait for me

Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane

Don't know when I'll be back again

Oh babe, I hate to go"

Do you hate to go Nola? Do you? I asked myself.

In all honesty, I had no idea. My entire being and how I viewed myself was so deeply entwined with nashville. I loved it. And sure, the bachelorettes and buses full of tourists yelling at me while I walked home from school down music row sort of ruined it, but it was my place. My home.

Even my parents didn't understand how much it meant to me. They were from New Olreans and rural Alabama, and yet I always had dreams of Folk music and limestone walls.

And the thing was, I was lying to myself that part of me didn't love westwood. I did like its dark academia, romantic columns, foggy mornings and rainy afternoons. But it wasn't me. And maybe you shouldn't pick where you wanted to live based on its aesthetic and your personality, but you should be happy where you live.

But I also realized I had this insatiable desire to travel. Hell, maybe even put out an album and go on tour. I'd be like old time 70's classic rock and roll, except hopefully less acid.

And my third realization was, without a shadow of doubt, I loved Rowen. I was stupidly, completely head over heels in love with that giant idiot and his mesmerizing green eyes.

My final realization was that he wanted what I wanted, but we were both tied down by expectations. Expectations of being wealthy and inheriting companies or whatever. I just... I didn't know how to have both.

Despite our bands quick success and fame, no one bothered me or anything at the airport. Who would bother the girl who looked half dead half alive, drinking a redbull and wearing a designer dress.

I wouldn't.

Videos of last night were circling around the internet, being posted on fan pages or whatever. I honestly didn't want to open snap chat or instagram and be bombarded with just... stuff. Fans, haters, conspiracy theorists, or more.

The rockers in the 70s were doing the right thing by working in a world where only stuff like The Rolling Stone was reporting on them.

My life goal is to have a rolling stone article written about me. My unrealistic life goal is to be on the cover of The Rolling Stone. Or Playboy- depends on my mood.

Too many hours later, and I had arrived in Nashville. I had barely stepped out of the terminal when a white blonde mass ran into my arms.

"Ruby!" I exclaimed. I had no clue she was going to be here. Ruby, my childhood best friend, the yin to my yang, the one who got me through growing up, and would sing with me on stage and play every string instrument until her fingers bleed was here. Our moms met when they were both pregnant so we joke we have been friends since before we were born.

I hadn't seen her in months and months because she was in North Carolina all summer, hiking the appalachian trail.

"It's been too long!" I leaned back to take her in, her dark roots and eyebrows that faded naturally to light blonde hair, her huge round blue eyes, high cheekbones and pouty lips. We looked a bit alike now, but we looked identical as children.

"Come on, you have a lot to tell me and boy do I have a lot to tell you," She said with a wink, and we laughed as we climbed in her car and headed back home. We lived 3 houses apart, so childhood was.. idyllic when we hung out.

Lots of shrieking, crying and singing later, we had caught each other all up on our woes. I was amazed by the shit she managed to get into in the middle of nowhere, but like 3 boys were involved and an older girl as well.

She was... wild. The two of us together were bad news.

"I just... I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to stay home and watch american netflix and cry," I confessed after spilling all the details about everyone at westwood.

She sighed as she pulled into my driveway, "oh come on! You're in Nashville for one day before your parents get home, we did one of our nights! You need one of your nights! Who are we?"

I sighed, wanting to laugh at our tradition, "Honky Tonk Angels."

"Exactly, so you go and clean that pretty little face of yours and we will go out tonight!"

"Ruby! I was literally partying last night, and I'm currently jet lagged!" I shrieked, but excitement began amping up in my system.

"Oh come on, where is my best friend? You never turn down a party," she said as we walked into my house, the familiar smell filling my senses.

Ruby and India would get along, I thought to myself. The only difference is Ruby will get down in the mud and do wild shit. Like will she sneak into a barn and ride a cow? Absolutely. India on the other hand enjoyed vodka and diamonds.

I sighed, caving in, "Fine. But only one night and we need to be home before midnight. I need sleep."

She squealed excitedly, "Yeah no promises."

"Ruby!"

"I'll see you at nine! Love you! You're gorgeous!" she called behind her shoulder as she raced out the door.

I shook my head to myself, That girl is the definition of wild child.

I didn't even check my phone for calls or voicemails from India and Ivy. I hoped they got the notes I left- I needed this for myself. To have a moment where I could be the girl I always have been.

OK but, does anyone else think thier house smells a certain way when they haven't been there for a long time and then they come back? Yes? No?

Comment! Like! anything!